Edge of Humanity (Only Human Book 5) Read online

  At the time, this seemed normal — only the worthy could reach the temple. Now, I realized there must be a gateway to another realm, where the landscape is the same so you don’t notice the change. Stay in this realm, and there’s no temple. Successfully step into the other, and there is. It also explained why it’s one of the few places the Cultural Revolution didn’t touch.

  I hiked the mountain three times. I knew I was in the proper frame of mind, and yet, the temple was lost to me.

  I started up a fourth time, and refocused my eyes for the hike this time, so I’d see changes in energy, and I stopped when I saw something… different.

  This portion of the trail had a sheer rock wall to the left, and a tall stone formation to the right. The rocks on either side blurred, brightened, and dimmed. If this were the doorway, it made sense. I sat and meditated until I lost track of time, and jumped when Jūn Yí spoke from behind me.

  “The doorway is no longer there. It was taken away.”

  “I can see the stones around it glowing and vibrating with energy. Something is still there.”

  “Residual energy. The doorway was there for centuries. The stones remember, but the path is gone.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Is Shīfù okay?”

  “I do not know.”

  I considered how best to ask my next question, and finally came up with, “If you knew anything, could you tell me?”

  “I don’t know if I could or not, but as I only know the path is gone, and nothing of the people who were in the temple when it went away, there is nothing else to tell you. The teachers and students in the temple when the path disappeared are also lost to us.”

  My heart grew leaden and sank into my stomach. “This is a great loss.”

  “It is.”

  We were both silent long enough the birds around us forgot we were present and resumed their previous songs.

  Finally, I said, “I’m certain you and the other Masters have researched every way you know, but I feel as if I should try.”

  “You’ve grown in knowledge since you left us.”

  Jūn Yí had always been able to cut to the root of an issue, and he never minced words.

  “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. I value what I learned from you and the other teachers here and on the mountain. More teachers have come into my life since I left.”

  “I wish you luck in finding our friends. I feel as if I failed them.”

  I looked around and noted it was later in the day than I’d realized. Lauren knew to return to Jūn Yí’s home when she finished, so she should be fine. I’d feel better once she had her new phone, though.

  I’d told Lauren my Shīfù operated near the village, and students had to prove themselves at the temple before being invited to learn from the true Master. She understood no one back home could know where she was, which meant when she got a phone, it was only to contact me and anyone she met in the village. Still, I’d only bought her a dumb phone because I worried she’d try to check her email if she had a smart phone.

  I’d bought fresh fruits and vegetables earlier in the day, and dropped them off at the house before I’d hiked to the mountain. Lauren had been instructed to help with food preparation and cooking whenever she could.

  “I need to buy some bicycles for us,” I told Jūn Yí now. “I appreciate your sister-in-law offering Lauren the use of hers, but I don’t want to impose. If I buy two, will you ride one back to your house for me?”

  “Of course.”

  I’d leave the bikes for them when we left, along with anything else I could come up with. Offering to pay to stay with them would be an insult, but I wanted to show them appreciation for opening their home to us.

  “Lauren is gifted. Perhaps more so than you.”

  “I see it too, but I’m her mom and thought perhaps I’m supposed to think so. She has much to learn, but she picks up on new lessons quickly. Did you notice whether she made friends, today?”

  “She did. Many of the boys wanted to talk to her — even one of the young men signed up for the monk apprentice program.”

  Jūn Yí had lived as a monk in Beijing, with celibacy vows and all. Here, he wore the robes to teach, and for ceremonies, but dressed in street clothes on his days off. He’d earned the right to be seen as a Master even after he no longer lived a full monastic life, but I wasn’t clear on whether he had to remain celibate — and had no intentions of asking. However, a novice would certainly be expected to remain pure of heart and mind. In Buddhism, it’s about the thoughts, not the action. Catching a woman who is falling would be fine, no matter what part of the body the monk touched, because the intention had nothing to do with sex. However, even thinking of touching a woman sexually was forbidden.

  “I hope he finds the right path.” In America, we’d hope he didn’t get into trouble. In China, you acknowledge the fact his inability to follow expectations might mean he should find a path better suited to his nature.

  “Indeed.”

  After an enjoyable evening with Jūn Yí and his family — and another good night’s rest — I once again insisted Lauren join me for Tai Chi in the park.

  Jūn Yí’s mother also joined us, and we waved goodbye to Lauren when we finished, since it was nearly time for her first class at the temple.

  I said my goodbyes closer to the house, and hiked into the woods near the base of the mountain once again.

  This time, I went off the trail to be sure I wasn’t seen, and I focused on my Shīfù before stepping into the nothingness, and then focused on coming back into reality at the old temple.

  Surprisingly, I found myself in one of the workout rooms at the temple, watching my old Shīfù teach a kata to a class.

  “Kuàiyàn.”

  All activity stopped, and Shīfù walked out of the room. I followed him down the hallway into an empty office.

  “How did you get here?”

  “I’ve learned to step out of one reality and into another. I focused on you and hoped it would bring me to you.” I looked around. “The temple seems the same.”

  “The temple is the same. We didn’t move, I merely closed the path.”

  “Why, Shīfù?”

  “An old enemy arrived. I know not how he found us. He knew to meditate up the mountain. I felt him approaching the gate and had to disconnect us from the human realm within moments.”

  My heart sank into my gut. “I fear it is my fault, Shīfù.”

  I told him of Gavin raping my brain and seeing everything. I also explained what I could of why I wasn’t able to kill him for doing so.

  “You held a vampire’s heart in your hand, and he still lives?”

  “I couldn’t get into his brain, Shīfù. It seemed the best alternative.”

  Shīfù is a Chinese word for honored Master, or revered Master. Using it when you speak is a sign of respect, much like using the word Master or Sir when speaking to someone in English.

  “Who taught you to move between realms?”

  “I cannot say.” After two minutes of silence, I added. “More than one person carried me through. I mostly figured it out on my own, and only then was I given guidance.”

  More silence. Once upon a time, I’d been able to sit in silence without needing to fill the emptiness, but there was too much to talk about, too many unanswered questions.

  “What has to happen before you can put the gateway back in place?”

  “I hid for a long time. I’m not sure I can return. I will defy laws I do not wish to violate if I anchor us back where we were.”

  The old gods had agreed to leave the human realm because it was the only way they could attempt to get the stupid humans from fighting over them. Most had left us to our own devices, but a few found ways to impact humanity without doing so as a god. Was my Shīfù one of the old gods? There was evidence to make me believe so.

  And he’d found a way to kind-of stay here, without actually doing so, but
I’d blown it for him.

  “What can I do to fix this, Shīfù?”

  “I cannot say.”

  Cannot. He didn’t say he wouldn’t say, but that he couldn’t.

  “If I bring my daughter here, will you train her?”

  He gave me a sideways look while staring straight at me, which is an artform all unto itself.

  “Tell me her name.”

  I told him, and sketched the two characters onto the back of my hand. I also told him the American name I’d given her.

  “You feel she is worthy of my time?”

  “I am her mother, so I’m supposed to think she’s talented. However, Jūn Yí has confirmed her talent to me. He feels she has more than me, though she of course needs training.”

  “Jūn Yí is well?”

  “He is, though he’s sad the gateway is no longer available. He worries about you as well as the students now deemed lost.”

  “When the father is present, the son must do nothing on his own account.”

  It took me a few seconds to realize this was my answer to whether he’d teach Lauren. He was reminding me a child doesn’t have to grow up and be fully responsible while their parent is there to take care of them.

  I’d hoped to stay close, but had known he might insist on teaching her without me around.

  I sighed. “Shīfù, if you’ll teach her, I’ll leave to find a solution to the problems I brought to your doorstep.”

  “You’ve told me you are friends with my old enemy. You still trust me with your daughter?”

  “Allies, not friends.”

  “And you are allies because of his Master?”

  Oversimplified, but accurate. “Yes, Shīfù.”

  “I’ve known the man you call Gavin by many names. Tell me more of your Abbott. Do you know the names he’s used in previous centuries?”

  Before leaving Chattanooga, I’d gone through proxies to set up a Dropbox under a different identity, and then uploaded any data I thought I might need to access. I pulled my phone out, but groaned when I saw there wasn’t a signal. Of course there wasn’t. Duh. I wasn’t in the human realm.

  “I can’t access a picture of him from here. I don’t know another way to show you.”

  He sighed. “Think of him and project your thoughts to me.”

  I did so, and he nodded. “I respect him. You say he holds Gavin’s leash now?”

  “I’d never refer to it aloud in that manner, but I suppose it’s a true statement.”

  “The vampire you know as Abbott would hurt me if it benefitted him, but I don’t believe he’ll gain by doing so.” He stood straighter. “Bring me your daughter. I will train her while you seek to replace the gate, so this little foothill of Jade Mountain can once again be reached by its Earthly counterpart.”

  “What must I do, Shīfù?”

  “This, I cannot answer for you. Your access to Olympia gave you entry here. You’ll be able to bring your daughter, but I ask you not to come a third time until you can either come through a gateway you’ve created, or when you must admit defeat and retrieve your daughter.”

  I bowed. “Thank you, Shīfù, for honoring my daughter with your teachings.”

  “Whether I teach her, or assign someone else to do so, depends upon her willingness and talent. Her time here will not be wasted, no matter who is responsible for her.”

  Before I’d walked into the nothingness, I’d found a tree with several branches exiting the main trunk, high enough up no one would notice me suddenly appearing out of thin air. I focused on this tree to get back to the human realm, made certain no one was nearby, and levitated to the forest floor.

  I made my way to the temple, and was happy to see Jūn Yí leading a class of hundreds through a complex kata in the courtyard in front of the main temple — perfect lines and perfect symmetry, so the students looked like game pieces on a board. I sat to watch, and it took me a few moments to pick Lauren out, about a third of the way back. Her form was good, she seemed focused, and I was pleased.

  The truth is, I can only take credit for giving Lauren opportunities, and for loving her. She’s worked her butt off to learn and become the young woman she’s turning into. I couldn’t be prouder of her, but every achievement she’s managed has been because she’s so damned determined. It’s what kept her alive in the orphanage as an infant when it was literally survival of the fittest, and then allowed her to prove to the schools that the little orphan girl was worth taking a chance on.

  In China, who you are is all about your ancestors. Without a family, you’re nothing. It’s impossible to understand the societal differences when there are so many people. If you consider the top five percent to be honor students, then there are more honor students in China than there are students in the U.S.

  With such a huge population, a student needs to rank high in the top one percent to shine above the others, not merely coast in the top five or six percent.

  Lauren hadn’t done these particular katas a thousand times, as the other students likely had, and yet her form was just as good. So yes, I was glowing with pride.

  Jūn Yí joined me on the bench when class was over, but Lauren talked to some friends before she came to us.

  “You’ve found something,” he said when he neared.

  I motioned for him to sit, and considered the best way to answer. “I won’t lie and say I found nothing, but I also can’t confirm I’ve found something.”

  “You don’t look defeated. Can the gateway be restored?”

  “This, I do not know. Lauren and I will leave this evening. I appreciate your hospitality, and I hate to leave on short notice, but it can’t be helped.”

  “We’ve enjoyed your time with us. Can you stay for dinner before you leave? Or perhaps until morning, so you aren’t traveling at night?”

  “We can stay for dinner.”

  9

  Lauren talked to some of the other students after class, so Jūn Yí and I had time to talk alone. When she finally came to us, she bowed to Jūn Yí, thanked him for allowing her to move up another class, and asked me how my day had gone.

  “There were surprises, and you and I will be leaving after dinner. I need you to refrain from asking questions until after we’ve said our goodbyes and we’re on our way. I promise to answer them — even some of the ones I’ve been forbidden from answering in the past.”

  Jūn Yí is smart, he’d correctly deduce that Shīfù had given me permission to talk to Lauren. I couldn’t confirm anything, but I trusted him with that much information.

  “I was just finding my way around here,” she said, not quite a complaint, but enough to show she was disappointed, “and I even made some friends.”

  “I know. It can’t be helped.”

  She tilted her head and looked hopeful. “Previously forbidden topics?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

  “You will tell Shīfù he’s missed? That I need his guidance?” asked Jūn Yí.

  “If I see him, I will tell him.”

  Dinner wasn’t as awkward as I expected, and the entire family came to the living room to bid us safe travels. I told them to consider the bicycles theirs, and thanked them again for welcoming us into their home.

  Lauren waited until we were in the forest to ask, “I’m going to meet your teacher?”

  “Yes. Another half mile, and we’ll leave the trail. Fifteen more minutes, and you’ll have most of your answers, though you’ll surely have more questions by then.”

  When I was certain no one had followed us and we wouldn’t be seen, I sat on the ground with my legs crisscrossed in front of me. “Sit in my lap with your legs and arms around me, please.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the only way to carry you where we’re going.” Well, the only way to be certain I did so safely, anyway.

  She sighed, but did as I asked.

  “Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and hold it. Don’t breathe again unti
l I tell you.”

  Shīfù had told me to take her to my old room, so I focused on it, and our trip through the nothingness was fast.

  “We’re here. You can breathe again.”

  I’d landed us in the middle of the oh-so-hard bed, and she climbed off me and sat beside me.

  “Where are we?”

  I explained how I’d first found the temple, hiking up the mountain in a meditation, and how I’d lived here while I learned from the Shīfù who ran the temple. I explained the gateway was broken, the people here when it was disengaged were trapped, and the people not here couldn’t get back.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Adonis gave me a key, so I could get to the land where his home is. The key apparently let me get here, too.”

  My genius daughter didn’t take long to work it through. “Adonis is a god. So, you can go to Olympus? This must be the Chinese version of Olympus then, right?”

  “Shīfù called it a foothill of Jade Mountain, so yes, I believe you’ve deduced correctly.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “The gods aren’t big on sharing information. You kind of have to piece stuff together.”

  Lauren had everything she’d need to live here four to five months. I hated to leave her, and I knew she’d have trouble with the separation, but it was the only way. If I thought she was too distraught, we’d come up with another solution, though.

  “Help when you can,” I told her. “Offer to do extra jobs, especially if you’re well suited to something. Make friends. Listen to everyone.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  I heard the note of panic in her voice, and my heart broke.

  Shīfù stepped into the room. “It was my condition. The teaching hierarchy is important. I can’t teach a child when her mother is overseeing the work.”

  Lauren stood and bowed. “You taught my mother?”

  “I was one of her teachers. I believe she’s had many since she was my student.”